


Naked

by J_Q



Series: TIMELESS [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, Mickey is a bad boy, Sexual Content, Swearing, ian is jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/pseuds/J_Q
Summary: J_Q asked for reader prompts: gimme a situation that wouldn’t ordinarily be cute and I’ll put M&I into that situation and it will automatically become cute.Erikutta replied: how about Ian gets riled up over someone who is giving Mickey too much attention, and who is involved somehow with Yev, like a teacher or something.Set in the uber-romantic Timeless AU where Mickey and Ian got together in season 7 instead of season 1…and lived happily ever after with a little jealous Ian every now and then.





	1. Ian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erikutta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erikutta/gifts).



> It's not necessary to read the whole Timeless series first, but a few of the references are from that series.

 

Ian was running late. He was always running late when his shift changed at work. It messed with his personal life as well as his health. At the moment, the jostling of the train was threatening to put him to sleep. He needed to wake the hell up and be on his A game because he’d missed Yev’s last three soccer games and felt like the worst dad in the world. Especially since it was the start of the new season.

Sure, even at seven years old, Yev was the most understanding kid on the planet. He consoled Ian and patted his back while giving him a play by play of the game. Today, though, Ian was determined to be there. The screech of brakes signalled that the train was nearing his stop, so he made his way closer to the sliding doors. His stomach growled just as the train jolted to a stop. Shit, he was tired, hungry, sweaty, and hell, horny. None of which were recommended when your trying to keep yourself stabilized. Hopefully, Mickey had grabbed him something to eat and drink before leaving the house for Yev’s game. And hopefully, he and Mickey could find some time to meet more of Ian’s needs.

Making his way out of the train station, his mind turned to meeting Yev’s new soccer coach. The kid thought he was awesome, but Mickey was unusually quiet about him. By unusual, Ian meant that Mickey wasn’t ranting and raving about every little decision the coach made.

Over the last two years, Ian had been coaxing Mickey into playing nice. During Yev’s first soccer season, Mickey had been banned from more games than he’d been allowed to watch. He’d threatened to tear the coach “a new one” after ignoring a kid Mickey thought deserved a chance to play, he’d shouted across the field at other parents who thought their kid was the team hot shot, and he even stared down a couple of the soccer field bullies. Almost none of the incidents involved Yev, who played well but never really drew any attention to himself. No, the incidents involved other people’s kids, whom Mickey felt weren’t being treated fairly.

Now at the start of Yev’s third year, Mickey had become an honorary assistant coach. It wasn’t official but he’d kind of embedded himself in the hearts of the other parents, who probably wanted to complain about their kids not getting enough time on the field or whatever. Mickey was their mouthpiece, no doubt about it.

Over the years when Ian’s shifts had messed with his ability to be there for Yev’s games, they would discuss every nuance of the game over supper or breakfast. Yev would describe the events and Mickey would provide the commentary, usually with a lot of colorful material about the latest coach. So the fact that Mickey was much quieter about it since the new coach started had Ian’s interest piqued.

Stepping through the access hole in the chain link fence that surrounded the soccer field, Ian could hear the familiar sounds of a junior sporting event. The kids, the calls, the general chatter. Parents and siblings sat around in foldable chairs watching little people try to remain focussed on where the ball was rather than get distracted by everything else that was happening around them. Ian spotted Mickey right away, standing behind a tall, muscular, blond man about their age, who must be the team’s new coach as he started yelling commands at the kids who were making their way toward him from all corners of the field.

Ian slowed his steps, smiling as Yev came to stand beside Mickey and lightly lean his head on Mickey’s arm. The gesture made Ian want to wrap his arms around the boy and kiss the top of his scruffy hair, but the smile started to slide from his face and become a confused frown. The new coach turned to Mickey with a big smile, then leaned in close to Mickey’s ear whispering something that made Mickey laugh and nod. Ian’s confused frown became a narrow-eyed scowl when the asshole actually lifted the whistle hanging around Mickey's neck to his lips and blew on it lightly. When the whistle fell back to Mickey’s chest, the guy’s hand lingered.

Ian started toward the group with every intention of stepping directly between the two men and doing what? He had no idea, but he wasn’t gonna stand around watching whatever display that was. A few feet from the group though, Yev turned and spotted Ian.

“Dad!” he yelled and barrelled into Ian’s body. Scooping him up in his arms, Ian pulled his eyes away from his husband and the homewrecker standing beside him to focus on his son. They hadn’t see each other in several days due to work, school and scheduled visits.

“How’s the game going?” Ian asked, then released Yev from his arms when he gave Ian the “I’m not a baby” look. “Sorry. You guys winning?”

“Dunno. But Tyler R. got a new dinosaur book that I really, really want. Will you get it for me? I asked dad and he said he’d see, but I know that you will say yes, so I’m gonna ask you instead.” He smiled into Ian’s eyes and Ian winked.

“Yevvy, come on, man,” Mickey called, and Ian watched him race back to his teammates.

Coming to stand beside Mickey, Ian put his hand on his husband’s back even though he knew it would push Mickey out of his comfort zone. “Hey,” he said watching Mickey frown at the touch but not move away.

“Hey, you haven’t missed much. I brought you a sandwich. It’s in the bag over there,” he replied and pointed to a pile of clothes and a triceratops backpack.

“That’s the new coach?” Ian asked tipping his head toward the man who was now moving around near the goal post giving the goalie instructions.

“Yeah.”

“You like him?”

“What a ya mean?” Mickey hadn’t taken his eyes of Yev, which Ian wouldn’t have given a second thought to if he didn’t have an uncomfortable churning in his gut.

“You don’t understand the question?”

“Whatever. He’s fine. Seems to know what he’s doing,” Mickey replied without much interest in the topic. Again, Ian was left feeling like Mickey was evading the question rather than just disinterested.

“Really? That’s all you have to say about him?”

Just then a little blonde striker named Olivia slammed the soccer ball into the other team’s net, and the parents around Ian cheered. Mickey was smiling when he looked at Ian, whose head was not in the game. He'd barely even noticed that the team had scored.

“Eat your sandwich,” Mickey said. “You look wiped out.”

While Ian ate his sandwich, he watched Yev with one eye and the new coach with the other. At the halfway mark, the teams came in for a break, and Yev grabbed a granola bar out of the backpack before hitting up Ian again to chat about the new book purchase he felt was a sure thing. As he explained all the rare and wonderful qualities about this new dino book, Ian watched the coach return to Mickey’s side, and the two of them picked up right where they left off. All chatty and smiley and friendly.

“Does the new coach talk to Dad a lot?” Ian asked Yev when he was between breaths. Yev just shrugged. “Like more than the other coaches did?”

“Dunno. Do you think we could stop at the bookstore on the way home?” Yev handed Ian his granola bar wrapper. “It’s kinda on the way home, right?” When Ian didn’t answer, he added, “Please, Daddy.”

Ian shifted his full attention back to Yev. “I’m on to you, you know.” He poked Yev in the tummy. “Calling me Daddy cause you know I miss it.”

Yev leaned into Ian. “I miss it too. But I don’t wanna get teased like I’m a baby.”

Ian leaned into Yev. “Well, technically if a baby could say Daddy, that would be pretty impressive. But I get it. Kids can be little shitheads. It’s our secret, buddy.”

Our secret, thought Ian. Anyone else keeping any secrets?

By the time they stopped for the dino book and a frozen pizza, eaten supper and read through the majority of Yev’s new book, it was past everyone’s bedtime and they all fell asleep together in the big bed.

 

Three long busy days later, Ian found himself once again standing on the sidelines watching Yev’s game and Mickey’s budding friendship. He wasn’t sure why he was hanging back and choosing to stand with a couple of the moms rather than stand between his husband and the new coach.

Jason.

Dumb name.

It felt like he was giving the two of them enough rope to hang themselves rather than cut Mickey down from the fucking noose. Jesus, was he being dramatic? He didn’t even know if the guy was gay, and he practically had the two of them kicking Ian out and setting up house together. The scowl on his face was not going unnoticed by the women around him.

“Are you okay Ian?” Olivia’s mom, Hannah, asked smiling up at him. Probably in an attempt to get him talking and sharing. These moms liked to share.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Ian answered vaguely.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” she asked and one of the midfield moms, Nicole, perked up as well. They loved gossip, which could be useful to Ian but could also backfire. If he brought up his concerns about Jason, they might have noticed something, but they would likely also spread Ian’s concerns to the other moms.

“Just a work issue. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out,” he said. “So what do you guys think of the new coach?”

“Well, he’s gorgeous. I mean look at those abs,” Hannah said, unhelpfully.

"Who has time to look at his abs. I haven't stopped looking at his ass," Nicole added.

“If he wasn’t gay," Hannah said with a long sigh. "I’d be all over that in a heartbeat.”

Ian’s own heart skipped a couple of beats. “You know he’s gay?”

“Yes, it’s his sister’s kid who plays on the team. Leo, the other midfield,” Hannah explained, obviously warming to her topic. “Anyway, his mom, Jason’s sister and I have milk duty on the same day at school, and she mentioned that her brother was retiring from the army and moving back home. Since she’s single and he’s single, they decided to live together, and Jason is helping her out with Leo.”

“But how do you know he’s gay?” Ian prompted her.

“Well, I asked if he would be interested in meeting any single ladies because I wanted first dibs on him if he was a hottie.” She laughed, and Ian smiled slightly. “And he’s most definitely a hottie but also gay. Hey, it’s too bad you’re married, or he’d be perfect for you.”

“What?” Ian asked taken aback.

“Well, you both seem to have the same taste in men,” she replied pointing to Mickey and Jason.

They were huddled together looking over something on Jason’s phone, and as Ian and the moms watched, Jason moved closer until he was practically snuggled up to Mickey. Ian could feel his doubts morphing into real anger.

Again that night, Mickey and Ian had no time to talk or be alone as whatever Yev had eaten that day was not agreeing with him, and he’d hurled on the train ride home, then again just as they entered the apartment. Ian had slept with him in his single bed and let Mickey get a full night’s sleep, so he could head out of town to a gun conference early the following morning.

The next time Ian and Mickey saw each other was Saturday morning as Mickey had gotten home from his trip late Friday night when Ian was already asleep. They had needed to get up early to pick up Yev and head to his soccer practice.

Before he’d gone to bed though, Ian had texted Mandy and asked her to come to Yev’s practice. She’d been excited at the idea after Ian assured her that Yev wasn’t mad she’d not been to a game yet this season.

While the kids were doing warm-up stretches, Ian spotted his sister-in-law walking across the field, so he met her halfway. She reached up for her hug, and Ian held her longer than usual then pulled back staring at her.

Mandy rubbed the hand that wasn’t holding her cigarette down the side of her head. “You don’t like it?”

“Like what? Your hair?”

“Yeah my hair, asshole,” she replied with a frown. “It’s a called a bob. Is it too short? It’s too short. You hate it.”

“If you shut up long enough, I’d tell you that it’s beautiful. I can see all you face for once.”

They glared at each other until Mandy said, “Thanks.” But Ian didn’t respond. He just kept staring at her.

“What the fuck, Ian?” she asked patting his cheek. “You haven’t gotten laid lately have you? I can always tell.”

“What? You cannot.”

“Have you gotten laid lately?”

“Shut up.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s not that,” he started to explain. Mandy squashed her cigarette into the grass and rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, it’s not just that. There’s something else.”

“Oh, so this wasn’t just a social call to see how your favorite girl was doing?”

“I love you but no.”

“Out with it then.”

“Can we watch some of the practice then talk about it?”

“Oh-kay.”

They made their way to the bleachers, and Mandy tucked herself into Ian’s side watching Yev smile happily at everything and anything. Just happy to be alive. It made both Ian and Mandy smile at each other.

“You guys got a gem,” Mandy commented. “I can’t even find a decent guy to screw, let alone marry and have a kid with.”

“Maybe life isn’t as perfect as it appears,” Ian mused, watching his husband pace on the sideline. The familiar tics and gestures sending Ian into a low-level melancholy. He sighed.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You and Mickey are my goal. Don’t fuck with my dreams, Ian,” Mandy replied her tone teasing until she added, “Who’s that guy with Mickey?”

“The new coach.”

“Hmm, he looks familiar.” Suddenly, Mandy sat up straighter, her eyes narrowed a little as she squinted toward her brother. “What’s his name?”

“Jason,” Ian replied. “You know him?”

Mandy nodded slowly. “You don’t know who that is?”

“No, why? Should I?”

“Mickey didn’t say anything?”

Ian stopped breathing in that moment. All he could do was shake his head.

“Well, you should ask him.”

“Ask him what?” He turned fully toward Mandy, who tried to avoid his eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Mandy, fucking tell me.”

“I need a smoke,” she said reaching into her bag.

“We can’t smoke here, or I’d be smoking right now too,” Ian took her hand. “Look at me.”

She met his eyes. “How long has he been the coach?”

“About a month.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind if you don’t spit it the fuck out right now.”

“He’s the only other guy that Mickey ever dated.”

Ian pulled his hand from Mandy’s and turned to find Jason. Mickey's ex-boyfriend.

“He’s the army dude who was shit at long distance relationships?” A clear memory of Mickey telling him on their first date about the guy he'd been willing to commit to but who hadn’t been willing to deal with the distance. He also remembered Mickey telling him about Iggy walking in on the two of them while they’d been going at it in the living room. In the four years since then, the guy had been just a vague notion in Ian’s mind, now he was real. Flesh and blood. And obviously interested in Mickey. “That's him, Mandy?” He turned back to her.

“Yes.”

Ian stood up, blocking the parents sitting on the benches behind him. “This isn’t Yev’s weekend. We were going to drop him back at Svet’s place after practice. His gear is over by Mickey. Would you be able to take him home?”

“Of course, but Ian—," she began, then stopped. “Kick his fucking ass. But don’t forget one thing.”

Breathing through his nose, he looked at her expectantly. “What?”

“He’ll never, ever love anyone but you.”

Ian could feel tears burning the back of his eyes. It was like dropping a priceless vase and finding the tiniest crack, almost invisible to the eye, but there nonetheless. Would the crack eventually destroy the entire vase? Can you live with a crack in something so precious knowing you can never truly fix it? “Then why is he keeping his fucking ex-boyfriend a secret from me?”

“My guess is because he’s a fucking idiot. He probably thinks it’ll be better for you not to know.”

“Well, then he truly is an idiot. He’s never been able to keep anything from me.” He made his way through the other parents toward Yev who was in deep conversation with Leo, and Ian irrationally wanted to yank his son away from the other kid because of his connection to his fucking uncle.

“Yev,” he called out. When the scruffy head turned toward him, Ian could see the question form in his eyes. Yev was too intuitive for his own good. “Nothing’s wrong, but Dad and I have to take off. It’s, um, a work emergency. Auntie Mandy is here,” he paused to point to the bleachers and Mandy waved. “She’s gonna take you home, and I’m sure she can be convinced to stop for a treat.”

“Another dinosaur book?” Yev asked excited.

“Well, I was thinking ice cream, but you can ask her.”

“Oh ya! They got the new unicorn sprinkles at Dairy Queen. It makes your ice cream look like unicorn poop,” Yev laughed at the very idea of this, and for a brief moment Ian felt better about everything.

He kissed Yev’s forehead and Leo snickered. Ian wanted to pinch the little shit, but settled for a whispered “sorry” to Yev, who just shrugged indifferently. Apparently, Leo wasn’t a serious threat to Yev’s social status. “Dad and I’ll call you later, okay?”

Ian turned to his husband, who was of course standing with Jason, the two of them discussing god knows what, and Ian didn’t give a single fuck if it was the strategy that would win them the fucking season. This shit was ending now.

With long strides, he stopped directly in front of Mickey and took a hold of his elbow. Then he turned to the other man. “Jason, Mickey and I are leaving now.”

“What the fuck, Ian?” Mickey asked and yanked his elbow out of Ian’s grip. “There’s still 20 minutes left of practice.”

“Mandy is going to take Yev home. You and I are leaving now.”

“No. We’re not.”

Ian stood his ground, his fury was building and threatening to turn this into a scene, but Yev’s face was in the forefront of his mind and kept him from unleashing. Yet.

He leaned into Mickey’s ear. “Tell your ex-boyfriend that you’re leaving.” Ian turned away and started walking toward the main street that led to their apartment. Mickey could follow or not, but Ian was done standing around the soccer field. He was totally fucking done. If he remained one minute longer, he was sure he’d make a fool of himself in front of all the other parents and kids. He wouldn’t blame Yev if he never forgave him for something like that. Instead, he imagined wrapping the string of the whistle around Jason’s neck then blowing it in his face. He stopped himself from imaging what he’d like to do to Mickey for keeping this shit from him.

It also irked him that he wasn’t able to physically claim Mickey in fucking public. Daily he had to watch men and women kiss hello, hold hands, hug, whatever. But he had to pretend in public that Mickey was his fucking brother. Maybe Jason would get the goddamn picture if Ian planted a kiss on Mickey’s lips every time he fucking felt like it, or if he could put his arm around Mickey’s shoulder while they watched their son kick the ball around.

By the time he was once again squeezing through the opening in the fence, he could hear and feel Mickey coming up behind him. But he kept walking. Mickey eventually fell in step beside him.

The scent of lit cigarette reached Ian’s nose, and he closed his eyes in pleasure at the idea of sucking on a cigarette, but when Mickey held it up to share, Ian took it and dropped it to the ground, stepping on it as he kept walking.

“Come on, man, you’re making this into something it ain’t,” Mickey complained, frowning down at the cigarette butt. He reached into his pocket for the pack, and Ian grabbed it out of his hand. Tapping the remaining three smokes out of the pack, Ian broke them in half and dropped them on the ground. Then handed the empty pack back to Mickey, who took it in complete astonishment. “Can we talk about this like civilized fucking human beings?” he asked. Then muttered, “And not bring the smokes into it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Asshole.”

“I didn’t fucking do anything, Ian.”

“You need to shut the fuck up right now unless you’re gonna be honest with me. With yourself.”

“Or what?” Mickey challenged like the belligerent little shit he could be.

“Or what?” Ian blinked slowly. “That’s a good question, Mickey. I’m going to think about that.” They’d reached their apartment complex, and Ian inserted the key into the security door, swearing when it stuck a little.

“Ian, stop. You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

Ian managed to get the door open and let it swing back behind him, hoping it would shut before Mickey could get through. No such luck. He could hear his asshole husband huffing and grumping behind him. Mumbling about drama queens and unreasonableness. Mostly unaware of Ian’s state of mind.

When they reached the second floor landing, Mickey nudged Ian out of the way, so he could unlock the door himself. “You were making me exhausted just watching you deal with the fucking lock.”

Once inside, Mickey kicked off his shoes and turned to Ian, but shut his mouth when he got his first real look at Ian’s face. He lifted his hand, then chewed on the inside of his cheek. His eyes darted between Ian’s and the door behind him, like he was considering leaving and coming back when things were less tense.

Ian continued to stand at the door letting his anger build. If his husband wasn’t going to take any responsibility for keeping this from him, then he wasn’t going to be reasonable either.

“You thinking about fucking the guy? Again.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Mickey reached into his pocket for his smokes then scrunched his face up peevishly when he obviously remembered where his smokes were.

“Well, he’s definitely thinking about fucking you.”

“He’s Yev’s coach. That’s it.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s all he is to me,” he explained aiming for patient but hitting exasperated. “Like now, I mean.”

“Now.” Ian nodded thoughtfully. “What was he to you then? Did you love him?”

“I don’t know.” He looked away from Ian when he said this.

Ian could now fully understand where the phrase “seeing red” came from. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and making him unstable. Mickey hadn’t said no. Could he have loved him? Fuck, Ian had assumed that he was the only one who had ever had that privilege. Did he even want to know?

“Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because you have some fucking feelings for him.”

“Fuck no,” Mickey answered looking at Ian like he was an idiot. “Cause you get fucked up over this shit.”

“So this is my fault?”

Mickey shrugged, and Ian snapped. He took a step toward Mickey, and Mickey took a step back. Ian narrowed his eyes and took another step.

“Relax, Gallagher. This is like a fucking mole hill, man.” And with those words, Mickey turned his back on Ian essentially dismissing him and his feelings about the situation.

Ian pushed Mickey into the wall until his chest and cheek were pressed into the cool surface, and Ian’s body was pressed into Mickey’s. They were both breathing heavily from the impact. Ian’s mouth was close to Mickey’s ear and his hands were braced on either side of his head. When Mickey pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in preparation for his favorite curse, Ian whispered in his ear. “Be careful.”

Mickey just bit his lip and waited. Puffs of air coming from his nose.

“You fucked up, Mickey,” Ian continued, his right hand dropped from the wall to Mickey’s hip and dug into the flesh almost painfully. “Did you fuck up?” Mickey closed his eyes for a second, when he opened them he released a long sigh and nodded. “What should I do about it? Pretend like you weren’t fucking flirting with your ex-boyfriend?”

“Ian—”

“You gonna try to convince me you were an innocent little angel in all this?”

Ian could feel Mickey’s chest heaving and the warmth from his body spread to Ian. Mandy’s words came back to him: it had been too long since he’d felt his husband’s body. He pressed himself into Mickey’s ass and watched his blue eyes close, his breath coming faster.

“I’m so fucking mad that you didn’t tell me.” Ian moved his hand from Mickey’s hip to his ass cheek. “I fucking hate knowing that he was here.” He squeezed. Hard. “And now you’re keeping secrets from me.”

Mickey groaned, lightly but Ian heard it, so he slid his hand from Mickey’s ass around to his cock, which was straining against his jeans. His pressed his palm against the hard length then pressed himself into Mickey from behind. “Makes me wonder who you’re hard for?”

“You, asshole.”

“Say my name.”

“Fuck you.”

“Say it.” Ian breathed the command straight into Mickey's year.

“Ian fucking Gallagher," he shuddered.

Ian unbuttoned Mickey’s jeans and lowered the zipper, then ran his hands under the soft material of Mickey’s boxers. “I fucking love you. I thought you loved me. That we did everything together. You kept this from me.” He pushed the material over Mickey’s hips and as his hands grasped the firm round ass, he rested his forehead on his husband’s shoulder. “How can I trust you now?”

Mickey choked out a strangled sound, and Ian lowered himself to a squat pushing Mickey’s jeans to the floor. Lifting the bottom of his t-shirt, he ran his lips along Mickey’s lower back and over the swell of his ass while his hands kneaded the flesh of his hips.

“I’m sorry, Ian.”

Hearing those words, Ian pulled back and watched his hands shape around his husband’s ass; his thumbs meeting along the center before he stood up, once again bracing himself against the wall on either side of Mickey's head.

“I was scared to tell you,” Mickey whispered, pushing back into Ian’s chest.

“Why? Scared of what?”

“That I wouldn’t know how to tell you. That it would fuck things up for Yev.”

“We’re a team. We figure it out. Together,” Ian explained. “And Yev always comes first. Turn around.”

Kicking his jeans out of the way, Mickey turned around facing Ian, his back now pressed into the wall. Their eyes met and held before Ian continued, “He always comes first. That’s why I didn’t lose my shit on the field. That’s the only reason.”

“Why aren’t you losing your shit right now?”

“How do you know I’m not?” Ian reached for the bottom of Mickey’s t-shirt and lifted it over his head, throwing it behind him.

“You’re still mad?”

Ian looked him hard in the eye then dropped his gaze to the exposed flesh. Seeing his husband naked in front of him left him conflicted. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and bury himself in all the softness, but he also wanted to smack his ass. Hard. “I’m still mad.” But the words were softened by the hand Ian ran down the smooth skin of Mickey’s hip.

“I just thought if I pretended he was no one then he’d be no one.”

“He doesn’t think he’s no one.”

“Maybe.”

Ian pulled his hand away.

“Okay, yeah, I kinda got that. I’ve just been ignoring it like it ain’t real.”

“You gonna tell him to keep his fucking hands to himself?”

“Course. But maybe you and I should share the assistant coach stuff. Be, like, a team, yeah?” Mickey suggested, and Ian could hear in his voice all the worry and uncertainty that must have been plaguing him. Man, he loved the guy.

“You know I don’t really blame him,” Ian began. Both his hands were on Mickey’s hips pulling them forward, against Ian. “Of course, he wants some of this.”

“Don’t talk about shit like that,” Mickey frowned, running his fingers along Ian’s neck until they linked behind him. The heat in their gaze was flaring up like a pulse between them. "I only know what it's like to love you. Fuck if I know what I felt for the guy," he confessed quietly.

Ian's control was slipping back into place. The vulnerability he'd felt over Mickey's secret was balanced with the vulnerability Mickey had offered by standing naked in front of him and baring what, for Mickey, would feel like his soul. It was time now to seduce his husband. Remind him of a few things.

“I realized when you asked me what I was going to do about it, that the answer was nothing. There’s nothing I can do. You’ve ruined me. When I’m angry at you, it’s like I’m at war with love. A battle I’m gonna lose.” Ian brought the pad of his thumb to Mickey’s cheek and traced the line of his cheekbone. Then followed the shape of his jaw and throat.

“It's so fucking hot to stand here fully dressed while you’re naked,” he said roughly, watching Mickey harden at the confession. He glanced up through his lashes, smirking slightly. “You know what would be even hotter?” Ian stroked his hand along Mickey's arm until their fingers linked, then he brought his husband’s palm to his mouth and licked it.

Mickey's eyebrows shot up, but his hand willingly found himself and found a rhythm. Ian held his eyes even when they so obviously wanted to close. “You set me on fire.”

“Ian, I need you.”

“Here’s what we’re gonna do," Ian began in a low sexy voice that curled around Mickey. "Once I’m done staring at you, I’m going to watch you walk to our bedroom. You’ll know what I’m looking at while you walk.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Then you’re gonna bend over the dresser. You’ll be able to see me watching you in the mirror.”

Mickey’s free hand grabbed the waistband of Ian’s jeans, but before he could make his way inside, Ian pulled his hand away. “No Ian for you yet. You’ve been bad.” He trapped Mickey’s hand against the wall above his head.

“I’ll be good.”

“Too late. I’m gonna have to spank you, Mickey.” Who was breathing harder now was anyone’s guess. “Hey, you can’t come yet!”

“I can’t?”

“No. I’ll let you know when you have my permission.” Ian was torn between laughing at how cute his husband was and coming himself at how cute his husband was. “Where was I in my story? Oh, yeah, spanking my bad boy.” He grinned and reached for that ass.

“So I can’t touch you and I can’t come and you’re just gonna stand there and talk fucking dirty to me?” Mickey sounded pretty anxious and Ian knew his plan was working. Very well indeed.

“You got a problem with that, Mickey? If you’re not a good boy, I’ll take your other hand away from you too.”

Mickey shook his head and nodded, clearly at a loss for how to respond.

“You keep interrupting my story,” Ian complained, pouting a little for effect. “Where was I, Mickey?”

“I’ve been bad.”

“Right. Don’t worry, my hand will be gentle.”

“Um, how gentle?”

Well, the tables were turning now. Ian was wondering if he was going to make it to the bedroom without coming himself. “Not gentle at all?” He responded, swallowing hard.

“Stop me from coming, Ian.” The desperation in Mickey’s voice brought Ian to his knees, literally. He wrapped his lips around Mickey’s cock, sliding it into his mouth until his lips met Mickey’s fingers, which had stopped moving. But once he felt Ian’s mouth, his hand started to pump and Ian’s mouth kept pace with his hand. For all of about 3 seconds.

Once he sensed Mickey was finished, Ian got to his feet and traced his lips along his husband’s cheek until he found his ear and whispered into it, “Don’t ever hurt me like that again.”

“Fucking promise,” Mickey vowed. He wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck and melded their bodies. Turns out, Ian thought, there wasn't a crack in the vase at all. In fact, it was even stronger than it appeared. “I promise, Ian.”

“Jesus, I need to be naked right now.”


	2. Mickey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first day of Post s8, my dears! It’s a brave new world, but be assured that if there is air in my lungs Mickey will be getting loved and getting laid…by Ian. So as per your request, let the removal of clothing commence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: As I adore every goddamn one of you, I have left you each a surprise in this chapter…some obvious, some more subtle. Let me know if you spy yours. xo

Where the fuck was Ian? Mickey was about to lose his mind, and not for the first time. This emotional shit was a like walking though a bunch of goddamn landmines. He was holding on, but without a smoke between his lips, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it that way.

It was hot as balls on the soccer field today, and he was surrounded by women fanning their faces. He really wanted to get in on that action, but he had to draw the line at standing around with a fucking fan in his hand. Heather and Nancy, or whatever the fuck, were going on about shit but Mickey couldn’t pay attention. He liked some of the moms enough. They were cool—fucking mouths on them made him blush sometimes—but they could be too fucking share-y for him. Wanting to know all about his and Ian’s lives, what they did for fun, where they hung out, where they met, who said I love you first for fuck sake. Next thing, they’d be peaking in their bedroom window trying to get a goddamn glimpse of him going down on Ian. Jesus, a guy needs some fucking secrets.

He did have to say, though, that the last 15 minutes waiting for Ian and avoiding Jason like the fucking plague, they had swarmed around him like he was their bear cub. The last few years, he’d been the guy who made sure shit got done properly, so now that he was engaged in mental gymnastics, it was kind a nice to have a solid wall of defenders. How they knew he needed defending was a damn mystery though. Could they sense his panic?

Just as the game was about to start, he had marched onto the soccer field holding Yev’s hand so hard that the kid had yelped and looked at him like he’d kicked a fucking puppy. Mumbling an apology, he’d watched his son join his teammates, then he’d watched Jason wave at him.

Mickey hadn’t wanted to be a pussy, but it had freaked him the fuck out. He had froze. In his mind, there were two switches: off and on. _Off_ was his safe zone, where he lived for the most part. Ignore shit and make it go away by force of will. _On_ was his combat zone. Yell at everyone and everything. Throw any number of obscenities at the target. In some cases, throw a punch or two. Then back to the safe zone.

He knew there was a switch in the middle. Hell, watching Ian, he figured there were about a dozen middle switches. Like a switch for different fucking situations. But he’d be fucked if he could figure them all out. That’s why he had Ian. He took care of that shit.

All Mickey had to do was love Ian like he made the sun rise and set, and Ian took care of the rest of life. It was a perfect arrangement. Mickey could keep his head buried in the sand, and Ian could wave his caretaker flag.

Then fucking Jason showed up.

Motherfucker sauntered onto the field the first practice, and Mickey had nearly fainted. And he wasn’t kidding. His eyes had widened and his heart had all but stopped. No! He’d thought. No fucking way. That kind a shit happened to other people.

Man, he’d wanted to grab Yev and run. Straight into Ian’s arms. Tell him what was going on and return to the soccer field when it all went away. Well, he’d also entertained the thought of grabbing Jason by his whistle and showing him the fucking door. Maybe kicking his ass as he ran away. A few obscenities trailing after him.

Part, a small part, of those feelings were from shit that went down years ago. He had been kind a hurt when he got dumped cause he wasn’t worth the effort, especially since he was willing to put some fucking effort in the shit show he figured relationships were. The guy was all right to look at and didn’t require much effort and was a decent fuck, that had been good enough for Mickey. So when he’d said that it was too hard to maintain whatever they were doing, Mickey had been peeved. He’d basically told Jason to kiss his ass, only less politically correct. It had all happened by text, and Mickey hated fucking texting, so it had been short and involved an emoji or two.

Some good had come of the whole thing though, when Ian showed up at the gun show a year later, Mickey hadn’t been tied to some motherfucker who he would a had to ditch. Cause one look at Ian and Jason would have been a distance memory. He’d loved the redheaded fucker pretty much from the moment he’d stopped at the display table. So he had to actually thank Jason for doing him a solid and fucking the hell off.

But he sure as shit didn’t have to thank him for showing up again. Christ almighty. Mickey’s fight or flight instincts had nearly fucked things up between him and Ian. Instead of hiding behind Ian’s skirt like a little bitch, he’d decided to just ignore the situation. Really, he’d thought, what could fucking happen on a kid’s soccer field?

Right, so, apparently lots of shit went down on a kid’s soccer field. Like your ex-fucking-whatever-the-hell could try to molest you in front of your damn husband and your husband could stalk away pissed to the eyeballs. Mickey shuddered. But cheered up considerably at the memory of the make up session. The tall, blond mom, whatsername, Erika, smiled back at him, like she was in on the secret. Fucking moms, man.

So here he was trying to figure out how to grow a pair of adult balls, but he needed his late ass husband to help him.

He also needed a smoke or some of Mandy’s cheesecake. Or a big plate of fucking meatloaf. Man, if he didn’t resolve this like yesterday, he was gonna turn into an emotional fucking eater as well as a borderline alcoholic and chain smoker. And possibly a sexaholic. Nah, anyone would be a fiend if they could bang Ian whenever they wanted.

Then he saw him.

Walking across the soccer field toward him. His long, open stride so familiar Mickey would recognize it anywhere. Relief flicked around his body. Fucker. The fucking sun did rise because of him.

Mickey watched him get closer. The determined tilt of his chin, the strength in his posture, the confident steps. His eyes were searching the crowd. Mickey watched him find Yev, then Jason, then find Mickey. Their eyes held as Ian got closer and Mickey saw the doubt. The fucking doubt that he had put there.

Shit.

Just as Ian reached him, Mickey took two steps forward until he was face to face with Ian and did something he didn’t think he’d ever do as long as he lived on this earth.

He pressed himself against Ian from lips to thighs and wrapped his arms around his neck. In the middle of a crowd of parents and kids. Ian’s hand came up to cup his head and Mickey let himself feel it for about three seconds. Kissing Ian was probably his favorite thing anyway.

Just as he was about to pull away, he slid his hand down until it rested on Ian’s face. When he did pull his lips away, he patted Ian’s cheek lightly. “You’re late, fucker.”

“Sorry.”

“Can’t do this shit alone, man.”

Mickey turned away from Ian a little and was met with a wall of faces, staring in awe. It looked like every fucking soccer mom on the field had froze in place. Mickey wasn’t even gonna try to decipher the looks he was getting. That’s why the off switch was so handy. Ignore mode engaged.

Until a little person scrunched up his nose at Mickey. “Eww, kissing is so gross.”

Mickey lifted his eyebrows at the rug rat. “Talk to me in ten years kid.”

The two men moved away from the other parents. “So what’d I miss?” Ian asked still searching the field for something. Mickey wasn’t sure what exactly, but he knew when Ian was scanning for bad news. Getting all negative Nelly.

“Hey, Nelly,” Mickey said, tugging on Ian’s tshirt a little. “Nothing is happening. Was just hanging out. But I haven’t even given Yev’s game any attention, I feel so—." He waved his hand vaguely looking for the right word.

“Guilty?”

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it.” They both searched the field until they found Yev’s little body deep in conversation with another kid. Probably dino related. Probably have to stop for another damn book. Kid’s a bloody book junkie.

“So you’re doing okay?” he asked.

“Suppose. When I got here, I felt so—.” That same hand lifted.

“Unsure?”

“Yeah, you weren’t here, so I kind a just stood around like a fucking idiot. Then suddenly there were fucking women swarming me. Jesus, were there always this many moms around?”

“Most kids have a mom. We just aren’t familiar with the concept.”

“No shit. Well, when they surrounded me, I felt so—.”

“Protected?” Ian started to laugh.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, huh? Know all the fucking words.”

“I believe the word you are looking for is amazing.”

“Yeah, well, do you got all their names in that fat head of yours?” He gestured to all the women gabbing, laughing and watching their kids mill around the field in a semi organized fashion. “I know those two. Heather and Nancy.”

“Hannah and Nicole.”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes but continued, “That’s Olga. I know her for sure. She doesn’t take any shit.”

“Very good,” Ian replied. “So that’s one for three.” He laughed when Mickey punched him in the arm.

“That’s all I got,” he grumbled.

“There’s Steph and Maryellen and Angel. Oh and Nina’s the one with all the tattoos.”

Mickey smiled a little when the women laughed at whatever they were talking about.

“You’re becoming such a softie, baby.”

“Who are you calling soft?”

“Not you.”

“Mhm. How come they knew I needed a bunch of fucking moms to protect me?”

“I’m guessing because at the last practice, I stormed over to you and then stormed off the field after having a few words with you and Jason. And then of course you came running after me.”

Mickey licked the side of his mouth and his nostrils flared as air was sucked into his lungs, but he held his tongue. He would give Ian that one as payment—in full. One eyebrow flick told Ian that from this moment forward, they were even.

“Okay, I guess we gotta face the firing squad,” Mickey mumbled when Jason started calling in the players. Why did he hate this shit so much? He kind a wanted to have a temper tantrum. He’d seen some pretty spectacular ones over the years taking Yev to kid related shit like birthday parties, and he figured he’d be really good at it. He had the right attitude to lose his shit in a completely inappropriate way. Plus he could hold onto unreasonable anger like a fucking pro.

“Mickey, did you hear me?” Ian snapped.

“What? No, fuck, Ian, I was thinking about shit.”

“What?”

“Stuff.”

“I bet.”

“I’m feeling vulnerable at the moment, okay, motherfucker?”

Ian actually stopped his mouth from commenting. “Oh, okay.”

“What did you say?”

“I said you ready? I’m ready.”

“Let’s do this shit and get it the fuck over with. Fucking fuck.”

Ian started toward Jason and the kids. Mickey tagged a long, still a mess cause he hated being a pussy but hated whatever this was even more. Once they reached the group, Ian crowded into Jason’s space just a little. For a brief moment, Jason looked directly into Ian’s eyes, but then returned to recapping the plays with the kids and making plans for the remainder of the game.

Mickey listened to the plans but without his usual intense scrutiny. Today, he was just gonna let the coach decide who played what. But turned out Ian didn’t agree with everything and suggested swapping a couple of kids. Jason started to protest, and Mickey cleared his throat, swiped his mouth with his thumb and stepped forward.

“Yeah, man, Raine’s needed to move out of midfield for awhile now. She’s got too much speed to waste,” Mickey felt his old fuck you coming back. “And Doddz hasn’t been in play all game.”

Jason looked between them and obviously got the message as he nodded and sent the kids back into the game. The three of them stood on the sidelines watching the plays, and maybe Mickey was standing closer to Ian than he usually did and maybe he occasionally touched his arm or his back when he talked about the game.

And maybe when Jason lifted the whistle to his lips to call in the kids, Ian snagged it from his hands and smiling devilishly said, “Let me get that for you.” Then blew hard on Jason’s whistle.

Maybe Mickey smiled contentedly.

 

 

After a long day, the three Milkovich-Gallaghers arrived home. Yev had talked their ears off about an apparent new dinosaur find that Sarah’s son had gleefully told him all about, so he needed to get on the laptop and read up on it.

“Dad, I forget the laptop password,” he said distractedly as he opened the bathroom door.

“Yev, man, I’m pissing.”

“But I need the laptop password.”

“I need to piss.”

“God, I’ve seen you pee in the back alley,” he complained walking away but forgetting to shut the door. “Daddy, where are you? Other Dad won’t tell me the password and there’s a dinosaur I wanna see. Did I tell you about the dinosaur? DAD!!!”

“I’m in the bedroom. Stop yelling from room to room,” Ian yelled from the bedroom.

Yev huffed his way into the bedroom. “What’s the goddamn password?”

“Pardon me?”

“What? I asked for the password.” He smiled at Ian, all heart eyes.

“Well, Yev, the goddamn password is my initials plus 138.”

“So,” he said setting the laptop on the bed. “That’s I-G-1-3-8, right? What’s 138?”

“Um, that’s a thing between Dad and me.”

“What thing?”

“Nothing. Mind your business, young man,” Ian tried out the stern parent thing.

“Does it got something to with sexy?” Yev snickered and ran from the room before Ian could grab him.

“Hey, Yev,” Mickey barked. “Don’t run with a fucking laptop in your hands. Use your head, kid.”

“Dad, where’s a phone?”

“How should I know?” Mickey flopped down on the couch with the remote control. “Ask Dad.”

“DAD!!!”

“Jesus, Yev. Stop yelling. I’m tryna watch Ancient Aliens.”

“Yes, Yev?” Ian asked walking into the living room with a narrow look for Mickey.

“I can’t find a phone and I want to text Auntie Mandy and tell her about the new dinosaur. She really likes dinosaurs. Do you think she’s already heard about it?”

“Not fucking likely,” Mickey mumbled from the couch.

“Where’d you look for a phone, Yev?” Ian asked with another narrowed look at Mickey.

“No where.”

“So maybe that’s why you couldn’t find it?” He suggested passing Yev his phone, who happily started typing. Every few minutes he asked how to spell a word.

“Is mischief spelled _mistjif_?” When no one answered, he yelled, “DADS!!”

Eventually he passed out, mumbling about dinosaur bones and Ian carried him to his bed while Mickey headed to their bedroom. By the time Ian joined him, Mickey had music playing from his cell phone.

“Stairway to Heaven?” Ian asked.

“Shut the door, Ian. And lock it.”

Mickey could see the moment when Ian recognized what was happening. After flicking the lock, he pressed his back into the closed door and looked at Mickey who was standing in the middle of the room. They had a little staring contest, maybe a little battle of wills. Mickey could feel the push and pull.

Who has the power in the bedroom?

This had always been an interesting dynamic between them. On the one hand, Ian spent much more time physically in control of what they did together. Mickey gave over the power in that area gladly, gratefully. Fuck, it made him hard to even think about the idea of it. Submitting completely. And Ian fucking knew what he was doing. That motherfucker radiated sexually authority without even trying.

On the other hand, Mickey knew he was the catalyst. That he didn’t have to sacrifice or give up a piece of himself to submit to Ian. That the moment he let Ian take control, Ian was in his control. That neither of them would ever be complete without the other now that they knew what it felt like to meet your perfect match.

While he knew where this would ultimately go tonight, Mickey was gonna start the game from a different point. “So you like me naked?” He swaggered slowly toward Ian, who swallowed and waited. 

Mickey gave Ian’s belt a tug loosening the buckle. Ian’s hips jerked forward from the force, but Mickey kept his hand on Ian’s chest, locking him in place against the wall. Then the belt zipped out of the loops of his jean and Mickey stepped away. Running the belt over his hand, he eyed Ian. “So you like to spank me?”

Another swallow.

Mickey draped the belt around Ian’s neck. “For later.” Then ran his hand down Ian’s chest until he could cup his husband’s erection and slide his hand between his legs. His eyes shifted to Ian’s mouth, while he rubbed, loving the fucking feel of him. Then he walked away.

From the middle of the bedroom, he smirked a little as he hands found the top button of his shirt. After a couple of buttons were open, he paused. “Like this?”

Ian nodded.

“Or do you prefer to be in charge?”

Ian shook his head.

So he resumed opening his buttons until the shirt slipped to the floor. His hands found the button and zipper on his jeans and he watched himself open them, knowing that Ian was eating out of his hands. What would push Ian over the edge? Appeal to his Master of the Universe dying to get out.

Mickey smiled at this and looked up at Ian as his pants slid down his legs. “Thanks for helping me take care of things today.” Yup, he watched Ian’s face and eyes soften. He kicked his jeans out of the way. “You always take such good care of us.” His fingers found the edges of his briefs and dipped a little beneath the fabric. “You gonna take care of me tonight?”

Ian’s hand grasped the front of his chest and he mocked having a heart attack, but his eyes were hot as hell. “Only you know how to take care of me, Ian,” Mickey continued while pulling his briefs down slowly.

When Ian dropped to his knees, still clutching his chest, Mickey wanted to laugh in pleasure, but he stayed in character. “What’s wrong, Ian?” he asked innocently, while his hand behaved less innocently. “You see what you do to me?” Then the final piece. “I need you. Baby.”

Ian fell forward to his hands, groaning loudly. Mickey walked toward him and used his foot to roll him over to his back. Ian was smiling up at him, but it didn’t stop Mickey from basking in the glow of the love coming from his eyes.

So he climbed on top of Ian and straddled his hips. Reaching down for the button on his jeans, he demanded, “Gimme that! Why do you keep it locked up? It’s mine, man.” His eyebrows proved his point.

Before he could get the zipper down fully, Ian’s hand ran along his arm and shoulder, up his neck to the back of his head. When his hand tightened in his hair, Mickey looked up. Ian’s smile was gone and now Mickey swallowed. The power shift had occurred. Ian pulled him down to his lips. “If you want some of what I got, I want some of that. So kiss me, Mickey.”

When they met, he rolled until Mickey was underneath him. Weighting down his body, pressing him into the soft carpet. Taking control, allowing Mickey to let go.

“Ian,” he had to tell him, but what were the words? “Ian.”

There were lips everywhere on his body, his cheek, his throat, his chest. Clothing rubbed against his erection and he pushed into it. He dug his hands into Ian’s shoulders. “Ian.”

He couldn’t get past that one word. Then Ian’s lips were back on his and any words that might have come from his mouth were lost in the kiss. They rolled again until Ian was under him, but his arms trapped Mickey to his chest, holding him. Forever wouldn’t be long enough, Mickey thought.

Until they released so his hands could slide down to grab Mickey’s ass and dig into that flesh. Ian pulled his mouth away enough to speak. “Bend over the end of the bed.” He added a hard smack to the command when Mickey didn’t move. “Come on.”

But Mickey needed more of Ian’s mouth first, so he pushed his way back in. Ian sat up taking Mickey with him until he was kneeling on either side of Ian’s thighs but still attached at the mouth. “The bed,” he repeated.

Mickey pulled away with a shuddering sigh, then crawled over to the bed, resting his cheek on the comforter. The nightstand drawer opened and shut, and he could see Ian’s shirt fall on the bed near his face. He reached his hand out and pulled the shirt to his face and sniffed it. “Shit, that does smell good. Fuck.”

“It’s nothing compared to how you smell. You’ve had me fucked up since the first sniff.” By then he was naked and kneeling behind Mickey. “You’re like cocaine, Mick.”

It was getting to be too much for Mickey. He pushed up from the mattress until he was flush with Ian’s chest and able to sit in his lap. Which felt good for everyone involved. He couldn’t contain his moan at the feel of Ian hard behind him. His head turned so he could rest his cheek on Ian’s and then Ian’s hands were on him, rubbing along his thighs so close to where he needed them to be. To encourage him, Mickey pressed back with his hips. Once. Twice. Ian pressed his hands into his thighs and prevented Mickey from moving. They just breathed together.

“I love you,” Ian whispered so lowly into his ear it was almost impossible to hear, so Mickey pressed his ear closer to Ian’s mouth. “I love you.” Still so quiet that it sent shivers down Mickey’s spine and goosebumps lifted all over his skin. “I love you.” Again, it was too much for him, too emotional and physical, but he wasn’t in control of what was happening and he knew it. So he tried to just let go. “I’ll be inside you soon, Mick.” He thought maybe he made some sort of sound, but he couldn’t say for sure.

Then he was pressed into the mattress again and Ian was bent over him. His hands were digging into Mickey’s hips, pulling them impossibly close. Ian was thrusting against him, but he wasn’t inside, and it made Mickey moan in desperation. Too much yet too little. “Fingers, please,” he managed to get out.

Ian brought one up to Mickey’s lips and pushed against it, but he wasn’t given a chance to lick or suck it before it was gone again. Mickey’s fingers were grasping at the comforter, so Ian brought a hand down to one of Mickey’s hands and carefully pried it open, lacing their fingers. Slowly bringing their twined fingers to Mickey’s mouth. He had a moment of confusion at the idea of having one of his own fingers in his mouth, but Ian was back in his ear. “Suck on them.”

At that command, he would have sucked on anything Ian put in his mouth. The feel of their fingers on his tongue was even more erotic than just having Ian’s fingers in his mouth. Just as he started to get into the movement of taking their fingers into his mouth, Ian pulled them out.

Then there were fingers where he needed them. Slicked fingers penetrating just where he needed them. Over and over until he was once again clutching at the comforter, and he felt sure he must have been begging, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. He just knew he needed to hold on long enough for Ian to take them there. Then he’d be able to curl in his arms and go to sleep for a week.

 

It wasn’t a week, but Mickey did sleep in on Sunday morning. When his eyes cracked open, he found half the bed empty. No husband, no son, no dinos to poke him in the back. It crossed his mind to check the clock, but who cared what time it was? It was Sunday and no one had work or school.

After throwing on some pajama bottoms, he made his way to the kitchen. His eyebrows lifted in surprise and amusement. The usual breakfast items met his eyes: plates, juice, coffee cups, syrup. But also two very large newspapers were spread open, and he suspected that his husband and son were behind each of them.

He cleared his throat to make himself known. Ian tipped the corner of his newspaper down to see him. Then Yev poked his head around the side of his. “What the hell is going on?” Mickey asked.

From behind his newspaper, Yev answered, “These are called newspapers, Daddy. They have news in them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“What’s news, Yevvy?” Ian asked, once more behind his newspaper.

“It’s the events happening in the world,” he began. “That make a good story and sell newspapers.”

Ian chuckled. Then Yev added, “They musn’t be doing a good job because these newspapers were free. They were giving them away when we walked to the store for milk.”

“Newspapers are dying, Yev. Very true,” Ian added, sagely.

“Too bad, Dad. This is fun.”

“Hey Mick, grab the food from the oven,” Ian said. “Join us. You done with the funnies, Yevvy?”

“Yup, you can read them Daddy. I’ll read some real news.”

“Here, buddy. You’ll find this editorial on tax hikes especially interesting.” Ian traded him papers.

“I like hikes, Dads. I wanna go on a hike in Alberta. Have you heard of it? They have the world’s best fossils. They just discovered a fully preserved nodosaur! That means it’s amored! Can we go there and see it?”

Mickey poured coffee and set the bacon and pancakes on the table, stopping to kiss the tops of two heads before picking up the funnies and his cup of coffee. The only events in the world that made a good story in his mind happened right here.

“A nodosaur, huh?” Ian said, putting down his newspaper. “Sounds like Dad when we put a movie in.”

Yev laughed. “I think you mean a nodo-snore!”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you have a prompt challenge for me. :)


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